


The Children

by scarlet_malfoy



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Infidelity, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Regret, Resolved Sexual Tension, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-28
Updated: 2017-07-28
Packaged: 2018-12-08 04:10:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11638626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarlet_malfoy/pseuds/scarlet_malfoy
Summary: Harry and Draco's sons are born on the same evening as they wait together in the St. Mungo's waiting room. They both remember that fateful night they spent together during the war. Will the pull of the past be enough to drag them from their present?





	The Children

**Author's Note:**

> This story assumes that Harry adopted Teddy, and it takes the names of the kids from the Epilogue, but in all other ways can be considered EWE. 
> 
> This story deals with infidelity, and the death of a spouse (not H or D)
> 
> This was originally published in 2007.

Harry watched Malfoy surreptitiously from across the crowded St. Mungo’s waiting room. The blonde’s eyes were closed and he was bowed; he almost looked like he was asleep. The only reason Harry knew otherwise was because he noticed the delicate flutter of his closed eyelids, the firm grip he had on the armrests to either side of him.

He hadn’t seen Malfoy in a few years. Hadn’t really thought about him much at all, if he were to be perfectly honest. He’d been focused on so many other things after the end of the war – the rebuilding of the fallen Wizarding World, for one – and also on Ginny. A part of him had always loved her, and that same part, the part that inherently hoped his life could still be beautiful, normal, somehow – that part always would.

But that didn’t change the fact that once, in the middle of a particularly dark and war-torn night, Harry had been so desperate for contact that he’d let Malfoy fuck him; fuck him like a girl up against a grimy wall underneath his own personal Deathly Hallow. Malfoy hadn’t said a word to him that night – he’d left one chaste, unfeeling kiss somewhere below his ear before Apparating away. Harry’d been left slumped, bruised; with his fingers hovering over the place Malfoy’s lips had just been, wondering why in the hell Malfoy had even bothered.

It hadn’t been a pity fuck, all those years ago. Harry repeated this over and over again in his head, like a mantra, trying to force the phrase into truthfulness. It kept falling short.

And anyways, even if it had been, it’s not like it mattered now. Not with James, barely a year old, settled in the crook of his arm, asleep. Not with Ginny in her room down the hall, having slight complications with their second child, and little green-haired (at the moment) Teddy curled up on the seat next to him, sound asleep.

An uncomfortable knot grew in his stomach. He couldn’t stop thinking about Malfoy, no matter how hard he tried to concentrate on other, more immediately important things, like the birth of his child. He wondered why Malfoy was here; why he looked so miserably worried. He’d been sitting like that with his eyes closed ever since Harry had entered the room. Harry’d pointedly sat directly across the room, facing him, so that when he did eventually open his eyes, Harry would be the first thing he saw. He wanted Malfoy to see him, though he didn’t exactly know why.

Harry held James closer to his chest, feeling increasingly horrible and guilty and wrong. James had Ginny’s eyes, and from some unknown gene pool, he’d acquired soft, thin, light brown hair. He was a little squirt, smart and already showing a penchant for his father’s and grandfather’s sense of bending the rules. Harry should have been thinking about his son and his new baby. He hadn’t asked for Malfoy to be here. He didn’t even _want_ Malfoy to be here. He didn’t.

He would have gone about the rest of his life quite happily undisturbed by thoughts of Malfoy and what had happened during the war; he’d put just about every other war memory out of his mind. It would have stayed there, sealed, hidden, but now it was here, at the forefront of his mind, and he, a little less than regretfully, remembered every single bit of sensory input from that night.

The hard brick wall, digging into his back. How Malfoy had almost seemed to glisten under the low starlight, sweat soaking his ivory skin. He remembered what it felt like to be fucked; the intense pain of a cock entering him for the first time and the sudden jolt of unexpected pleasure when Malfoy had adjusted the angle just the tiniest bit. He remembered how alive he’d felt, and how completely unrestrained he’d been. He’d never screamed like that with Ginny, never felt so completely, amazingly, out of control…

The sound of the waiting room door bursting open caused Harry to jump, and James to make a soft coo of dismay at the unexpected movement before he sailed right back into dreams. Teddy, quite a heavy sleeper, was undisturbed.

Malfoy hadn’t moved, but his eyes had opened wide. He didn’t seem to have noticed Harry; he was staring wild-eyed at the Healer who had entered the room – jarring everyone within it – but who was headed straight for him. All at once Malfoy scrambled to his feet, lips pressed in a hard, defiant line as he grabbed the Healer’s arm, pulling him into the left-most corner of the room – located just to the right of Harry.

“What happened? Is she… or he? – and Gabrielle, how is she?” Malfoy’s voice was low and ragged. It was almost painful to hear. Harry’s heart started racing; he just hoped Malfoy didn’t notice him sitting here. He’d probably grab the Healer and move somewhere else and then Harry would never know what was going on.

“Mr. Malfoy… I’m so sorry,” the Healer began lightly, treading carefully. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Malfoy become rigid. “We lost Ms. Delacour. She was too weak to be with child… we did everything we could.”

“Oh my god.” Malfoy had backed up against the wall, eyes squeezed shut and his chin drawn down tightly against his chest. His hands shook and grappled helplessly against the chipped wood paneling. “Oh, god…”

The Healer seemed hesitant, but then he plowed ahead. “You have a healthy son, Mr. Malfoy. He’s perfect.”

Malfoy looked up through red shot eyes, and gave a short, half-hearted laugh, tinged with horror and tears. “Can I please see him? My son. I need to see my son. Scorpius. His name is Scorpius. Please.” Malfoy was struggling to remain coherent, and Harry had a desperate urge to go to him, comfort him in some way. He was surprised to find tears forming in his own eyes.

“Of course. Follow me.” The Healer, one arm steadying Malfoy, disappeared with him out the door and into the hall. Harry began breathing normally again. He didn’t know what to feel, and he didn’t know why his arms, holding James, were shaking.

No sooner had the door closed, then it burst open again – this time, Molly Weasley flew with alarming speed into the waiting room, grinning from ear to ear.

“It’s time, Harry, give me that baby! Get to the delivery room now, or you’ll miss it! Hurry!”

Wordlessly, Harry handed James over to his grand mum, and stood. His legs were numb from sitting for so long and he hoped that he wouldn’t collapse. He hoped the distress that had been lining his face had gone unnoticed. Knowing his mother-in-law, though, she’d be too excited at the prospect of more grandchildren to notice.

He smiled at her, remembering about his new baby all at once before pulling the door open and running down the length of hallway toward the delivery room. It did not go unnoticed by him that his child and Malfoy’s would be sharing a birthday.

~*~

“Harry.”

There was no response. Harry had fallen asleep in his chair at the foot of Ginny’s hospital bed.

“Harry! I think you need some coffee.”

He opened his eyes slowly, and then he smiled as he looked up at Ginny, holding little Al in her arms. Molly had taken James and Teddy back to the Burrow, where they’d be spending the night while the Healers checked to make absolutely sure everything was okay with Ginny and the new baby.

“I think you’re right. I didn’t sleep a wink last night.”

“Mum said as much. Hey, could you get me a cup of tea while you’re up?”

Harry nodded and stood, coming closer to plant a kiss on both Al’s little head (which was covered in thick, black hair) and Ginny’s lips. He grinned, smoothing her hair back behind her ears. After learning what had happened to Gabrielle Delacour, he couldn’t stop touching Ginny or looking at her, exceedingly grateful that she was all right, alive, healthy.

“Be right back.”

The hallway seemed a lot smaller than it had earlier that morning. Perhaps that was because all the pressure was off, the baby was born, and Harry could now relax, somewhat. Nothing in the world seemed daunting anymore. Harry was so happy and content, he felt like a sappy, mushy puddle of goo, and his smile was contagious – complete strangers smiled back as they passed him.

Then he rounded the corner on his way to the cafeteria, and he was halted dead in his tracks. He’d almost forgotten about Malfoy.

Almost.

Malfoy was standing in front of a long window. As he approached, Harry saw several rows of cribs and basinets behind the glass, almost all of them empty. The farthest one on the right held a baby with white blond hair and an ethereal glow. Most would have guessed that to be from the Veela line in the mother, but Harry knew better. That child was Draco Malfoy’s, to a T. Harry would have said so even if he’d had no idea Malfoy’s child had been born today, in this hospital. His shoe squeaked on the linoleum and he winced, but Malfoy seemed not to have heard.

“Congratulations, Potter.” Or maybe he had heard. Malfoy hadn’t taken his eyes off his son, or his hands out his pockets. He seemed small, demure. Harry didn’t know what to make of it.

“Oh… well, thanks. You, too. He’s beautiful.” Harry had been about to add, ‘And he looks just like you,’ but conceded that the two sentiments together would have made for quite an awkward time.

Malfoy didn’t say anything. He just continued to look through the glass, as if breaking eye contact would cut him off from his very life force. Harry cleared his throat and moved to stand next to him, coming as close as he dared. He instinctively wanted to reach out for the other man, and he wished for the self confidence to be able to go forward and do something like that.

“I’m really sorry, Malfoy. I just… if there’s anything I can do…”

Malfoy looked at him for the first time. His gaze felt like an electric shock and Harry physically started.

“Do you remember…?” Malfoy trailed off, eyes questioning and unbelievably open. He seemed unable to explain in any more detail, but Harry knew.

“I do. I mean, of course.” Harry wished he could speak without sounding like a frightened teenager. It was like Malfoy’s gaze had undone all the years in between then and now.

Something flickered behind Malfoy’s eyes, and Harry’s stomach flipped anxiously.

“Good.”

~*~

The sky was grey and threatening rain as Harry headed down the stairs of his London flat slowly, holding James’ hand as he took his own little steps. Ginny was waiting for them at the bottom, holding onto the handle of a double-seated stroller. Al was already strapped in, infatuated with his frozen chew toy.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?” Ginny asked, worrying her bottom lip as she scooped up James.

Harry felt annoyed, though he knew it was uncalled for. “As I’ve said several dozen times, I’m sure. Malfoy was pretty damn particular about it being just me in his owl. Anyways, what would you do with the kids?”

“I don’t know, take them over to my Mum’s house? Jesus, Harry, I don’t know why you have to be so... _pissy_ about everything lately.”

Harry gaped open-mouthed for a second or two before he turning away. She wasn't wrong. “I’m sorry. I’ll just… I’ll see you later tonight. Bye, boys…” He leaned down to kiss them both on the head, and then turned to Ginny, but the look on her face made it quite clear she wanted nothing at all to do with him at the moment. He raised his eyebrows and turned, Disaparating straight to Malfoy Manor.

A moment later he was standing in front of a large, black, ornate wrought-iron gate. It was raining steadily in Wiltshire. Harry was soaked within seconds.

He stepped forward, shivering, taking in the grounds on the other side of the gate. He’d supposed the outside of the Manor house would be pretty big, and it was, but what he hadn’t realized was just how much land there was surrounding it; there was a labyrinth of pathways and marble statues and gardens and fountains… had it been a nicer day, Harry would have loved to go exploring.

The gate looked incredibly locked. Harry wondered how he was supposed to let Malfoy know he’d arrived, and he held out a hand to grasp one of the wet bars. At his touch, the gate began to pull forward of its own accord, and Harry let go hurriedly, slipping through once the gate had opened far enough. It took him a few minutes to find his way to the front door, since he’d opted to stick to the curving path; he didn’t want to find out the hard way that the Malfoys had set wards around their perfectly manicured grass.

Harry looked up to see Malfoy leaning against a white pillar; possibly he’d been there all along and Harry just hadn’t noticed him. Malfoy was soaked, too. It was strange to see his hair all messy, dripping down into his eyes.

There were three steps to the main landing of the front porch; Harry paused before them, looking up at Malfoy at the top. The rain seemed annoyingly loud, all of a sudden.

“I didn’t think you’d come.” Malfoy eventually spoke in a small voice, wrapping his arms around himself.

“But I did. I didn’t think you’d ask.” Harry had been wondering all morning why Malfoy had asked. He didn’t have the guts to voice this thought, but it permeated his mind with ideas and doubts.

“Malfoy. Is everything… are you okay?” Malfoy was staring at him, but he hadn’t moved, hadn’t said anything, and so Harry put one foot up on the first stair. It was like Malfoy had been unglued, or maybe undone, by the magical force of Harry’s foot against the marble step; he’d rushed forward down the steps and flew right at Harry, almost knocking him down, latching his arms around Harry’s neck, and he was sobbing.

Harry didn’t know what to do. All of his senses were overwhelmed, he could feel the rise and fall of Malfoy’s chest against his own, could hear him crying. It was a wretched, horrifying sound, the sound of a grown man crying, and it was breaking Harry’s heart. He didn’t understand why Malfoy was allowing this to happen; the last time he’d seen Malfoy crying, things had gone pretty awry. But his arms seemed to understand what to do better than his brain did; perhaps he was just hardwired after taking care of three young boys who were prone to crying fits, and it was odd that that knowledge was carrying over to this situation, with Malfoy, but it was. His arms settled around Malfoy’s waist and he held on tightly.

Malfoy was leaning against him, with almost all of his weight, and Harry found it easier to just sink, gently, kneeling while Malfoy’s arms went around his chest and he buried his face in Harry’s sopping wet robe. Harry made odd, soothing noises, the ones that tended to work with James and Albus best, and after a few moments Malfoy actually quieted down a bit.

All at once, the need to know why overwhelmed Harry. He had to ask. He had to know. It was killing him.

“Listen… I need to ask you-“

“Isn’t it obvious?” Malfoy’s breathing was labored, and his voice was a bit scratchy still from crying, but as he pulled away slightly and looked into Harry’s eyes, it became obvious to Harry.

Here he was, kneeling down in a muddy courtyard, with Draco Malfoy sprawled across him. And then Malfoy was moving forward again, and putting his lips on his, and something broke inside Harry – the same thing that had broken the first time they’d been together, all those years ago. He kissed back, hard, all inhibitions lost or forgotten, and Malfoy moaned deep in the back of his throat, hands getting caught in Harry’s wet knotted hair. They pulled apart for air, panting.

“Potter… God, are you sure? Because, Ginny-“

“Shut up. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, I don’t care…” Harry ground out harshly, even though it did matter, he did care, this was wrong, but he couldn't stop himself from clinging to Malfoy, pulling him up slightly to meet him and shoving their erections together. The rain and the wet material made it infuriatingly, tantalizingly difficult to feel anything and a grimace of frustration issued from his throat. Malfoy pushed him onto his back in the mud, grounding his hips into him.

“You said… you said that if there was anything I ever needed, Potter… why the fuck did you say that… because… now…” Tears may or may not have been falling down Malfoy’s face; Harry couldn’t tell for the rain. Malfoy was still moving on top of him, he could feel him now, with this new angle, through several layers of soaked robes and it wasn’t enough. He desperately wanted to feel Malfoy's skin against his own, rub their cocks together, let Malfoy fuck him again…

“I never loved her!” Malfoy shouted, and Harry immediately opened his eyes, staring up in confusion. “I didn’t love her, but she loved me. You were married and Weasley was pregnant, and…”

“Me?” Harry asked dumbly. “Me? How did… I don’t…”

“I don’t understand it either, Potter, and it’s been killing me for years. When I saw you that night, I just couldn’t fucking help myself, you were so… I’d wanted you for so long, Potter, wasn’t it obvious?!?”

“What?" Harry was breathing heavily but he couldn't think. "What are you saying?”

“I didn’t _'recognize'_ you. The last time you were here. It would have been so easy to give you up, I could tell it was you, even with that cursed face, I’d have known you anywhere… I couldn’t, because I…”

“Because you what?” Harry sat up slightly, but Malfoy pushed him back down, resting his forehead against Harry’s.

“You know. You know, because you feel it, too. That’s the only reason you came here,” Malfoy whispered. Harry stared, watching the water dripping down his face, off the tip of his sharp nose, onto his own glasses, lost in rivulets of rain. He reached up and grabbed Malfoy’s face, and kissed him, and despite everything, it felt right.


End file.
